Overture Downs not my friend but i wont say no

seemingly, the peculiar woman finds some humor in the huntsman’s words, replying with a short grunt.
"i wouldn’t know," ulfric remarks, voice rough. "i look at you and see no reputation worth remembering." blunt, maybe too much so. he’s never seen anyone quite like her, and there are nicer ways to say as much. but niceties have never been his way.
they keep their distance, a habit learned in the wildlands. yet he can smell her, as if she had pressed along his face, his neck. something about that lingers. unsettles.
"but my assumptions of you don’t feel so off-kilter anymore." a thought left hanging, waiting to see if she takes it.
her voice mellows, like waves settling after a storm. not something he minds. there’s a quiet to it, something that smooths the edges of his usual irritation. pacified. a strange feeling. unwelcome, but not unpleasant.
he shifts, paws moving a step closer, his head tilting slightly. "you’re one funny woman." then, a breath later, "real damn funny." dry as sand in the blazing, bleeding sun.
beast.
he likes that.
but the mention of him as a troublemaker—that is a jab, soft but well-aimed. his eyes flick away from her, to the fog stretching behind. she doesn’t know. can’t know. no reason to bristle over it.
instead, he chuckles, though it’s little more than a scoff. "my work is hardly the same as harassing women on dirt paths, but it is just as shrewd…" a pause, a flick of his ear. "would you believe me if i told you that was enough for me?"
icy blue eyes return to her, unreadable. "is it enough for you?"